Fighting My Way
by Nano Byte
Summary: The story of the 12th Hunger Games, from the eyes of the Dist.11 tribute. Dess's family has always been a pawn in the Games, and now Dess has found herself in the middle of them. Can she become a major player, or are the odds ever against her favor?
1. Reaping Day

**So this is my first Hunger Games fanfic. Please keep in mind that it takes place **_**before**_** the series takes place, hence the 12****th**** Hunger Games. I have a few chapters back written already, and I'll be putting them up as I get reviews. (Next chapter= 10 reviews, etc.) Anywho, feel free to shoot me a pm if you have any questions or whatnot or just want to chat or something. Well, here it is. Enjoy. :)**

I'm awakened by my grandmother's snoring, just like I have been every morning since me, my brother, and sister came to live with her, five years ago. I sit up, glancing across the room at Nana's bed. The old woman is on her back, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. I have no idea how Damon sleeps through it, but then again, my thirteen year old little brother has always been a heavy sleeper.

Slowly I stand and make my way out of the room, careful not to step on Damon's hand. Our tiny two-room home only has one bed, so Nana has the bed and Damon and I sleep on mats on the floor.

I slip past Damon and into the kitchen, grabbing my clothes for the day on the way out. I set the bundle on the old wooden table and turn my attention to the stove, where the embers from last night's fire are still glowing. I stir the embers and add some more coal, then grab the pot from the cupboard and start boiling water for tea while I get dressed.

Fifteen minutes later I stood outside in front of the house, a mug of tea in my hands. On a usual day, I would be getting Damon up and ready for our morning shift in the orchards before school. But today wasn't a normal day.

Today was the Reaping for the 12th Annual Hunger Games.

"Dess!" A voice calls from up the road. I turn and can't help but grin as Willoby starts running down the street towards me, Carter on her heels. Will, Carter, and I have been friends since we were kids, climbing the trees in the orchards like squirrels. Will practically tackles me, almost knocking me to my feet. Sometimes Will is a little crazy and not very practical, as if all the horrible things in this world can't affect her.

"Morning," I laugh, linking my arm in hers. Carter slips his arm through hers on the other side and we start heading down towards the field. I glance at Will and Carter as we walk. They both look distinctly District 11- dark hair and tanned skin. Will has big, silver-gray eyes and short, spiky black hair. It used to be longer- almost to her waist- but she's kept it short ever since it got tangled in a tree and she had to hack it off with a knife. She's a little taller than I am, and curvier too, even though her family doesn't have any more food than mine does. Carter is at least a head taller than Will, and his hair is dark and straight. Sometimes I think there's a little more between the two of them than just friendship.

We head out of the community and down to the orchards, where we usually hang out if we have free time. We have to head across a fallow field to get there, and when we reach the edge, Carter disentangles himself from Will.

"I'll race you," he says, taking off towards the trees.

"Hey!" Will and I yell, running after him. As I race across the field, the knot I hadn't noticed had been in my stomach all morning starts to loosen up, and I wonder if that was Carter and Will's plan all along. Reaping day has been a source of anxiety for me since my sister, Rowena, was reaped two years ago.

"Come on, Dess, you're falling behind!" Carter says over his shoulder, and I grin, speeding up. I pass Will, then catch up to Carter, staying stride for stride with him for a few moments before pulling ahead. I reach the trees a good twenty feet ahead of him, gasping for air after the run and because I'm laughing so hard.

"How do you do that?" Carter gasps when he reaches me. I just shrug, watching Will as she jogs up to us.

"It's not human, how fast you are," she says seriously, but the corner of her mouth twitches up.

"Come on guys," I say, swatting her on the shoulder.

We end up in a tree at the edge of the orchard, wasting time until we have to get ready for the reaping. All three of our families have been called to the District Square for the reaping, outside the Justice Building. It's not the first time any of us have gone- everyone gets called at least once, and this will be my third time. The last time my family was called, Rowena ended up in the Games.

Will is eyeing me warily. "You nervous?" she asks, getting straight to the point like she always does. I turn from watching the community and look down at her. She's sitting on a branch a little below me, Carter on a branch across from her. I'm the lightest, and basically the smallest, of the three of us.

I nod. "A little," I lie, not letting her know just how nervous I really am. But she knows me too well.

"Dess, it'll be fine," she says, patting my ankle, the only part of me she can reach comfortably, reassuringly.

We hang out in the tree for a bit, just talking about life. Will mentions how her baby brother has been cranky lately, because his teeth are coming in, and Carter about how his youngest sister, ten-year-old Ivy, is managing with her first year of field-work.

Soon it is time for us to head back towards the community, the little cluster of shack-like houses we call home. There are many of them scattered across District 11, each in varying degrees of distress. Our community is relatively close to the train tracks, about five miles from the District Square, so we can hear trains going by during the day, when they do, which is rare. It's also within a mile of the fence that keeps us in, although the Capitol says it's for our own safety, to keep wild beasts out. The Peacekeepers are relatively lax when it comes to the majority of laws- it's technically illegal for us to be hanging out in the orchard, or for Damon to set traps in the fields, or even the fact that they let us carry knifes, because we use them for work. The only rules they really enforce are those relating to the "safety" of the district. You can't use weapons, or steal from those that might have something worth stealing, and most importantly, you don't go anywhere near the fence. There's no way to get past it even if you did- it's electrified, most of the time, and reinforced with metal plates along the bottom and barbed wire on top, not to mention the guard towers. Only crazy, suicidal people get within site of it. The laws were enforced a lot more when I was little, when the rebellion was still fresh in the mind of the Capitol, but after more than a decade of submission from the District, the Peacekeepers are a little more relaxed about them.

We're walking across the grassy, empty field when Will stops. Both she and Carter have been watching the ground- we usually keep our eyes open for any extra vegetables that have survived, but I've been too distracted to pay attention- and Will's seen something. She kneels and fingers what looks like a weed, but we all know better.

"Potatoes!" Will shrieks, poking her finger through the soil. She glances up at me. "I can feel them!"

I kneel down next to her and pull out my knife, and start digging.

"There's a couple more plants over here!" Carter calls out.

In the end, we come up with two potatoes each, after making sure we leave some to grow more. We enjoy our secret little garden.

When we reach the edge of the community, we go our separate ways, heading to our designated dwellings to prepare.

I walk in the door and the first thing I hear is Nana's voice.

"Where have you been?" she scolds half-heartedly, seeing the potatoes in my hand. She takes them from me and sets them on the counter. "These will go well in the stew tonight," she says. "Damon's trap caught a fat little groosling this morning."

I glance at my brother, who's sitting at the table eating some sort of cold porridge. He looks some much like our father that it makes my head spin sometimes- dark hair and eyes, and these freckles that drive all the girls crazy. It's a wonder he's only thirteen, because although he's small, he doesn't look it at all.

"Morning," he says cheerily, porridge falling from his spoon to his lap. I hear Nana mutter something about what a slob he is and it's a good thing he isn't dressed yet.

"Morning," I laugh, ruffling his shaggy hair, before Nana shoves a basin and rag into my hands and gestures to the other room.

"Go get cleaned up," she barks. "You look like you've been sleeping in the woods for weeks."

I take the basin into the back room and undress, then dip the rag into the basin. The water is cold- my grandfather made sure that the well was deep, so we always had fresh, cool water, whereas some of the other families end up without any water because it dries up in a drought, or gets contaminated. There was an outbreak of disease five years ago, and even though our family had good water, both my parents caught the disease and died, leaving us in the hands of our grandmother.

Once I've cleaned up, I pull out my reaping outfit- a simple, dark green dress of my mother's. I don't quite fill it all the way, but it's the nicest piece of clothing I own. Then I start combing my hair out, using the rest of the water to clean it. I hadn't bothered with it this morning, just pulled it back with a leather tie like I do when I'm working. But now I leave it down.

My hair is an unusual color for District 11- red. Not bright red like this girl from District 5 who one the Games a few years back. Her hair was practically orange. No, my hair is dark, with a little brown mixed in with the red. It's also really long, about at my waist when it's down, and wavy. I get it from my mother.

I glance in the dingy mirror on my way out, and stop despite myself. I look just like my mother. Except the eyes. My mother had blue eyes, clear as the sky on an early summer day, as did Rowena. My eyes are my own, though- light brown, amber, gold.

I step into the kitchen, and Nana shoos Damon into the room after me, reminding him to scrub his face.

"My, you look beautiful," she says, "just like your mother." I give her a small grin and sit down at the table as she sets a bowl of the same cold porridge Damon had in front of me.

I eat quickly, and soon Damon comes out of the back room, his face clear of dirt, for once. He's dressed in his nicest pants, the cuffs rolled up so he doesn't step on them, a clean shirt.

After the dishes are done and Nana gives Damon's face the all clear, I slipping on my shoes- a pair of simple black canvas flats that I wear all the time. They're great for the fields and climbing trees, not to mention running.

We meet the rest of the families headed to District Square at the edge of the community, where a Peacekeeper bus sits waiting. The old thing looks as if its about to break down for good, and there is a running bet going as to when we'll all have to start walking the five miles to the reaping.

Carter, Will and I sit three to a seat on the way out there, the trip filled with nervous chatter.

Finally we arrive. It's almost noon, and the square is packed with people from all over the district. Together, these two facts make it unbearably hot. Damon and I wave goodbye to Nana as the mob of us- Carter, his thirteen-year-old sister Madi, Will, Damon and I- make our way towards the roped-off area. Carter takes Damon with him to the boys side, and Will and I drop Madi off in her designated area before heading to our own.

Now that we're essentially alone, Will turns on me.

"So," she begins, "did you notice Dante was on the bus this morning?"

I pretend I don't hear her, instead watching the last District 11 victor, Mikeal Allgood, talking to the spiky-blue-haired Capitol woman on stage. It's not the same Capitol escort as last year, I notice.

I'm pulled from thought when Will whacks me on the arm.

"Are you even listening to me?" she asks.

I gesture towards the stage. "There's a new Capitol escort this year," I tell her, trying to distract her, but it doesn't work.

"Big deal," she scoffs. "That's nothing compared to the fact that Dante couldn't keep his eyes off you on the bus."

"That's not true," I retort.

"How would you know? You were staring out the dirty window the whole time."

She's got me there. I was staring out the window the whole time. Between the crowded bus and the heat, I'd needed the distraction.

"Hey, Dess," says a voice over my shoulder. I can tell by the look on Will's face who it is before I even turn around.

"Hi," I say, looking up. Dante is a bit taller than Carter, so I have to look up at him because I'm so short. He's from the same community as us, and we used to be friends when we were really little, but we hadn't spoken a word to each other in years, until recently, when I started seeing him everywhere. I have to admit, he is quite handsome. He has the same dark hair and eyes as most District 11 people, but there's just something about him that makes him seem different.

"I just wanted to come and wish you luck," he says.

"Oh, well, thanks," I stammer. I could practically feel Will holding back laughter.

"Well, good luck." He places his hand on my shoulder as he says this, making my face heat up.

I nod, speechless, and he gives this little half-smile before walking away towards the boy's pen.

I turn back to Will and she has this look on her face, but before she gets the chance to say anything, the Mayor steps up to a podium on the steps of the Justice Building. It's a beautiful building, newly completed after the original one was destroyed in the rebellion a few years ago.

He starts his annual speech, the Capitol-written one about the history of Panem, then launches into the story of the rebellion, and how the Hunger Games were the Districts' punishment. You can see some of the older people shifting uncomfortably, some even with tears in their eyes. These are the people you know took place in the rebellion, and regret their actions because now they have to watch the ones they love fight for their lives.

At one point, my gaze falls on the boys' pen across the way, and I lock eyes with Dante for a second. I feel my face heat up again and tear my gaze away, focusing back on the Mayor's speech.

Soon, the blue-haired woman steps up to the podium, introducing herself as Crimson Terry. Will glances at me, trying not to laugh.

She gives a small speech, wishing everyone the best of luck, before she reaches into the boys bowl.

"Griffin Aires!" Her voice rings out.

The boy looks a little older than me, and if he's scared, he doesn't show it as he takes the stage.

"Now for the ladies," Crimson says, digging her hand into the girls bowl. I can feel my breakfast of porridge souring in my stomach from the anxiety.

She pulls the slip from the bowl, and I realize the Will has unconsciously grabbed my wrist, cutting off the circulation to my hand.

Crimson seems to pause for ages before she reads the name on the slip.

"Desdemona Reeves!"

**Ok, so don't forget- that faster I get to ten reviews the faster chapter 2 goes up. Also, I need names for other tributes, so if you have any ideas, add those to you review along with which district they'd be in. There's no guarantee I'll use yours, but I will give credit to those who I do use. I do have names for some of them, but if I like yours better I'll change it, or I might put it in a different district. This is not a SYOT, I'm just too lazy to think up names. :) Anywho, don't forget to review. Please. And thank you for reading. :)**


	2. A Short Trainride to Hell

**Hooray, second chapter! I was going to wait until I got ten reviews, but this chapter is going up especially for my friend, Average Londoner. Happy Birthday, dear! I love you!**

I feel my stomach drop right out of my body. I knew this was going to happen eventually. Rowena was reaped, and Carter has had this theory that the Capitol rigs the reaping so siblings get drawn. There were two victors, twins from District 2, who won consecutive years.

But I still wasn't prepared for this.

Somehow I start moving towards the stage, shaking Will's hand off. I reach the stage without bursting into tears, and try to compose myself enough so other tributes don't peg me as a weakling to get rid of first.

I look down at the faces in the crowd, picking out Will right off. She's sobbing already, and I can see Carter looking from me to her, shock and horror on her face. Dante's right next to him, the look on his face unreadable.

Griffin and I turn to face each other when we're instructed to. His hands are rough, like most people in District 11.

"Let's give a big round of applause to Desdemona and Griffin, the new District 11 tributes!" Crimson says cheerily.

The audience claps politely, and then the Mayor begins the annual reading of the Treaty of Treason. I stand there on the stage next to my fellow tribute, attempting to keep my face void of any emotion. Finally the reading's done and the anthem of Panem plays, and then we are ushered into the Justice Building. Peacekeepers lead us up a gorgeous curving marble staircase to a long hall with plush carpet, a huge double door open at the end. I catch a glimpse of the room inside; a soaring ceiling, flowers and chuhbby children with wings looking down at us. The room still smells of fresh paint. We are led down another hall, then another, and I get turned around in the labyrinth of halls. At one point, I notice a hall with a ladder at the end, a couple of men moving furniture up it.

The Peacekeepers finally deposit me in plain room with a plush couch in it, and soon the door opens again, admitting Damon and Nana. Damon rushes me and wraps his arms around me, and I hug him back. There are tears in his eyes, but he doesn't let them fall. Nana comes over and hugs us both then.

Then Damon looks up at me. "Please come back," he whispers. I ruffle his hair.

"I'll do my best," I tell him.

Nana places a hand on my shoulder. "I don't want to lose another granddaughter," she says. "You be careful."

I nod, tears pricking at my eyes, then we hug one last time before Nana ushers Damon out of the room, letting Carter and Will in. Will is still sobbing, tears running down her face. The shoulder of Carter's shirt is soaked.

"Oh, Dess, I can't believe this," she cries. Carter shakes his head and wraps his arms around both of us.

He lets us go, then starts giving me advice while trying to comfort Will at the same time. I reach the point where I can't stand it anymore.

"I can't believe you're the one crying," I snap. "You're not the one that has to go into the arena. Do you see me crying?"

Will stares up at me, her silver eyes wide, while Carter's eyebrows have disappeared into his hair.

"Sorry," she sniffles. "I just… just can't stand the thought of you being in the Games."

I sigh, less angry than I was just moments before. I sit down next to her on the couch and give her a hug, before looking her straight in the eyes.

"Willoby Baine, don't you dare cry for me," I tell her sternly.

She opens her mouth to say something, but is interrupted by a knock at the door. I look up and it's all I can do to keep my mouth shut and off the floor.

Dante's standing in the doorway, watching us, eyebrows raised. I glance at Will and see she's allowed herself a small smile.

"Hey," he says. I notice the smile doesn't hide the sadness in his eyes.

"Uh, hi," I respond stupidly, but my mind's gone blank. _Curse you, Will,_ I think. There could not be a worse time for one of your match-making schemes.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he laughs.

"You saw all that?" I feel my face getting red.

He nods. "Yeah, I did." He pauses, then… "Do any of you know why they brought me up here? I didn't think I'd make the visitors list."

There's an awkward silence, and then I shoot Will a glare that clearly reads, _what did you do?_

"I told the Peacekeepers he was an old friend, too," she informs us. I shake my head disbelievingly.

There's a bang at the door, and the gruff voice of a Peacekeeper informs us that there's only five minutes left of the allotted hour I'm allowed for goodbyes.

Will dries her eyes on her sleeve and gives me a quick hug. "Come home," she pleads. "I know you can survive out there, but just… stay out of trouble, ok?" It's probably the weirdest advice she could give me. Carter takes her by the hand and the two stand quietly by the door, leaving Dante and I to ourselves.

"So," he begins, "you seem to be handling this well."

I make a face. "I don't think it's really sunk in yet, but it will."

"You have a strategy yet?"

I shake my head no, glancing over and Will and Carter. He just nods, understanding.

"You probably stand a good chance if you keep under the radar," he tells me.

"I'm already singled out," I find myself saying. "They'll make a big deal about how Rowena made it to the final eight, and everyone will come after me first." For the first time that day, I find tears pricking the corner of my eyes, and try to hold them in.

Suddenly I find myself in Dante's arms.

"You just need to be strong," he says sagely. "At least, when there are cameras around. Give just enough at the interviews so you're interesting to the audience, but not enough so they already know everything about you." He grins down at me. "And save that temper of yours for emergencies."

It's then that I remember why we were friends so long ago, why I've always liked him.

"Thanks," I say, but he's found more advice to give.

"Make sure you eat and drink plenty of water, starting as soon as you get on the train. Save any skills you have for your private sessions." He looks me straight in the eye when he tells me his last bit of advice. "And don't kill your District partner, unless it's absolutely necessary. Don't want to come home to a District that hates you."

I nod. "Thanks," I say again. "And I'm sorry I…"

I'm cut off when the door opens. "Times up," the Peacekeeper informs us. He starts trying to usher everyone from the room, but Will and Carter are standing in the way.

Dante ignores the chaos at the door. "Don't worry, Desi," he says, using the childish nickname I haven't heard in years. Since my parents died. I feel a lump rise in my throat. Then he leans in, and whispers in my ear. "I'll be waiting for you to come back."

We both look up when there's a thud from by the door. The Peacekeeper has Carter out the door now, and is gesturing for Dante to leave. He doesn't respond right away. Instead, what he does next almost kills me, right then and there.

He leans down again, his lips warm and soft on my forehead. "May the odds be ever in your favor," he whispers, as the Peacekeeper grabs his arm and pulls him from the room. Will is last, and she gives me an unreadable look before the door is slammed shut and locked.

I'm reeling from his words. "May the odds be ever in your favor." They race through my head. They were the same words repeated every year before the start of the Games, ever since President Adikia said them when the Games were first created, so sarcastically that you know he wishes pain and despair upon the Districts, and for the odds to definitely _not _be in their favor.

But when Dante said it, it was sincere. No one ever says those words to anyone in District 11. They mean something negative, cruel.

But, I realize, they don't have to.

Five minutes later, the Peacekeepers return, ushering me from the room and what was, most likely, the strangest goodbye in the history of the Hunger Games, past, present, or future.

Once we arrive at the train station, I can feel the lump in my throat growing. I can still feel Dante's lips on my forehead. And I can feel the eyes of Panem on my face. The camera crews are zoned in as the three of us- Mikeal Allgood, our mentor, Griffin Aires and I are led onto the train.

I don't breathe a sigh of relief until the doors have shut tight.

Mikeal gives me a sympathetic look. "You'll get used to them."

"I doubt it. They're like the hounds of hell out there." Griffin's voice startles me- I forgot he was standing right behind me.

Mikeal just nods then, because our escort, Crimson Terry, rushes into the room. Up close I can see she has flashing silver tattoos lacing the skin across her face, and on the back of her hands and up her arms. She's dressed in a simple, but professional looking pantsuit.

"Well, we better get you to your cabins, so you can clean up for dinner," she tells us, spinning on her heel. She's wearing the tallest heels I've ever seen, so I have no idea how she doesn't fall on her face, especially when the train lurches into motion. I stumble, but Griffin's still behind me, and he catches me before I hit the floor.

"Watch yourself there," he tells me, not unkindly. He grants me a smile.

"Thanks."

He grins. "No problem."

We make our way after Crimson and Mikeal, who are already almost to the end of the train car's hall.

"So, Desdemona, is it?" Griffin starts, but I interrupt him.

"Dess," I say automatically.

"Excuse me?" He asks, bemused.

"It's Dess. Desdemona is just too fancy for District 11."

He laughs.

"Hurry up, you two," Mikeal calls from ahead. "I don't want to miss dinner."

Griffin and I glance at each other, and he shakes his head. "Well, let's go then."

We catch up to Crimson and Mikeal at the end of the car, and she points us to our designated compartments.

"I'll be back in an hour to get you for dinner," she says, before heading down the hall.

Mikeal stands there, just shaking his head. "Sorry about her. Here, I'll show you how everything works."

He opens the door to Griffin's cabin, gesturing that I follow them in. Inside, Mikeal shows us what all the buttons do.

Then he shows us the shower.

I've never seen one before, much less used one. We can't afford luxuries like that in District 11, so both Griffin and I are amazed by it.

I head back to my own cabin to shower, and I'm finished with time to spare. I put my mother's green dress back on, having changed in the bathroom. I brush through my damp hair, amazed at how much softer it is after using some of the Capitol-supplied shampoos, oils and conditioners. I take one last look in the mirror, and stop dead.

Nana was right- I do look a lot like my mother. The thought brings tears to my eyes as realization starts to set in, and I let them fall.

Shaking, I leave the bathroom, noticing vaguely that there's a pair of pants and a tunic lying on the bed. I ignore them, instead flopping on the bed. I'm already dressed anyways. I lay there, letting the tears fall, but silently.

I look up when there's a knock at the door.

"Time for dinner!" Crimson's voice warbles from the other side of the door.

"One second," I say, disgusted at how pathetic my voice sounds.

I roll off the bed to my feet, trying to dry my face with my hands, but I know it's not working. I quickly slip into the bathroom to wash my face before heading to dinner.

I'm the last on to the dining car. Mikeal and Crimson are already sitting on one side of the table. The only available seat is next to Griffin, but I take it gratefully. I haven't eaten anything since the porridge this morning, and I'm starving.

The food comes, and I know I'm practically drooling, it smells so good. I've never seen so much food in one place in my life, unless you count the grain fields, which I definitely don't. Griffin looks as if he feels the same way.

The food is amazing. I've never tasted anything so delicious in my life. There's some sort of meat that melts on my tongue, covered in a creamy sauce with garlic potatoes and some sort of fruit puree.

"Tastes like oranges," Griffin says, taking a bite.

"No, not oranges," I correct him. "There's a distinct note of berries to it."

"But also a slight creamy texture to it."

Mikeal watches our argument, an amused look on his face, as we go back and forth between what various fruits could possibly be in such a concoction.

"Well, you two seem to know your fruit," Crimson says idly.

Conversation stops and we all just stare at her, but she hardly seems to notice, just takes a sip of her wine.

"It's almost time for the recap," she finally says.

We all end up in the television compartment, watching the recaps of the reapings from all the other districts. I end up stuck between Crimson and Griffin.

The program starts, and the Hunger Games host, Tony Aimers, appears on the screen. There's some banter at first; apparently, this is Tony's last year as the Hunger Games host as he's retiring.

He introduces the man who will be replacing him, but by this time I'm not listening- I'm barely focusing on the screen in front of me. My nerves are back, worse than they were when I was alone in my cabin before dinner, and it takes everything I have to keep the tears from spilling from my eyes. Now the reality of the Games has been thrown in my face, and there's nothing to distract me now.

I don't realize I'm shaking until Griffin taps me on the leg.

"You ok?" His voice is right next to my ear.

I gave a small nod and went back to trying to focus on the program, trying to remember the names and faces of the people I would meet in the arena. My fellow tributes.

Both the girl and boy from District 1 are blonde, I notice, but that's about all that stands out to me.

The program ends, and Crimson stands.

"My goodness, it's late," she yawns. "We better get to bed. Tomorrow's an important day. You'll get to meet your stylists and discus your angle for the interview, won't that be fun?" She smiles. "Now, off to bed, both of you."

Griffin and I stand; I'm still shaking, and tense from watching the reapings and trying not to cry.

We head down the hall together, and I stop outside my door. My hands are shaking too hard to open the door.

Suddenly Griffin is at my side.

"Need some help there?" He asks, reaching over and opening the door for me.

"Thanks." I feel I've said this a lot today.

He just grins. "Hey, don't stress about it, ok?" I have the feeling he's not talking about the door. "The more you think about it, the worse it is."

I nod before slipping into my room, but just as I'm closing the door he catches it.

"Hey listen," he starts, but then it seems like he's forgotten what he was going to say, because he just sighs. "Good night."

"Night," I say, confused, as he enters his own compartment and shuts the door.

XXXXXXX

I don't sleep that night, as much as I know I need to. The knot that had settled in my stomach after dinner had only gotten bigger, and I felt nauseated and terrified at what was to come.

My mind keeps flashing to the faces of everyone I love- Nana and Damon, Will and Carter. My parents. Rowena.

That's when I let the tears come, alone in night. I can't help but feel this is somehow all Rowena's fault, that I'm a tribute in the Games, about to be slaughtered along with 22 other children for the amusement of the Capitol. That she left us, Damon and me, when we needed her most. It's her fault she's dead, that I'm going to be, and mostly likely Damon as well.

"How could you do this to us?" I whisper to my pillow. To Rowena. "How could you leave us?" My voice cracks, and the pillow is soaked.

Deep down, I know it's not her fault any of this happened. Except one thing.

"Oh, Rue," I cry, using her childhood nickname, "Why couldn't you come home?"

**AUTHOR'S NOTE HERE**


	3. Prep Teams and Chariots

**So far, I only have on measly review, and it saddens me so. :( Anywho, here's a lovely new chapter.**

**~Nano**

I must have fallen asleep sometime that night, because the next morning, Crimson's voice warbles from the other side of my door.

"Breakfast in an hour!" She calls in that ridiculous Capitol accent. "You'll be meeting your stylists today!" She actually sounds excited.

I groan and roll over, snuggling deeper into the blankets. I haven't slept in an actual bed since my parents died and I went to live with Nana. I've forgotten how comfortable it is.

A few minutes I sigh and sit up. I've never been one to be able to sleep in- having to work a morning shift does that to you, I guess. I roll off the bed and make my way into the bathroom.

I'm an absolute mess. My hair is a matted, tangled mess at the back of my head, my eyes are red and puffy from crying, and my nose is red from the sun yesterday.

I decide to shower again, even though I'm meeting with my stylists today. I want to at least look mildly presentable.

I shower and brush out my hair, and emerge from the bathroom feeling, well, not better exactly, but more improved.

I decide against wearing the green dress again, but I don't know what to do with it. Quickly I slip into the pants and tunic I was left yesterday, tie my hair up, and grab the dress.

When I arrive in the dining car, only Mikeal is there.

He nods at the dress in my hands. "What's that for?"

"I…I don't know what to do with it," I stammer. "It was my mother's and…I don't want them to just throw it out…"

He just nods and takes a sip from the mug in his hands. "I'll see it's sent back to your family then," he says, gesturing for one of the white-clad servers, who I'd learned last night were Avox, to take the dress.

I sat down across from Mikeal and one of the Avox handed me a glass of water and a mug. I feel like I've been chugging water constantly since I got on the train last night, and I'm tired of it, but I know it'll help in the long run.

Mikeal watches me for awhile, amused, before leaning forward.

"Something tells me you're going to be someone to keep an eye on," he says.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "What gives you that idea?"

He nods towards the almost empty glass of water in my hand. "You think ahead. I noticed last night you only had water. That kind of thinking will get you far in these Games." He frowns and looks as if he's about to say something else, but he's interrupted when Crimson storms gleefully in, heels clacking, Griffin behind her, looking a lot less perky, and muttering who-knows-what under his breath. From the way his lips moved, it didn't look like he was muttering anything Nana would ever allow in her vicinity.

For some reason, this makes me laugh.

"Why are you so giggly this morning?" Griffin mutters grumpily, sliding into the seat next to me.

I shoot him a look. "I don't giggle," I say, and it's true; Will's the one that giggles.

He shrugs and starts filling his plate, and I follow suit, having finished off my water.

"I hope you kids are excited," Crimson begins.

Griffin and I just look at each other. Sure, that's _exactly_ what we are right now.

"About?" I ask sweetly, too sweetly. Griffin coughs up a laugh and Mikeal raises his eyebrows at me, but Crimson doesn't notice the sarcasm dripping from my words.

"After breakfast, we'll be pulling into the station in the Capitol, and you kids will get to meet your stylists in the Remake Center!" She sounds as if this is the most exciting thing in the world.

"Why, that sounds just lovely. I can't wait to meet them!" I say just as sweet and innocent as I did last time. Griffin's grinning into his eggs now, trying not to laugh.

Crimson nods enthusiastically. "I knew you'd be excited about that!" She says gaily.

I frown. What exactly is that supposed to mean?

"After you two are cleaned up," Crimson continues, not noticing the look on my face, "There's the Opening Ceremonies and the chariot ride." She glances at her watch then. "Speaking of, I have some things I have to take care of before we pull in. I'll see you two later!" She waves jauntily before leaving the dining car.

"Did she have anything other than coffee while she was in here?" I ask.

Griffin shakes his head and holds his napkin out towards me. I eye it warily.

"What do you want?"

"You have a bit of sarcasm dribbling down your chin," he says seriously. I stare at him for a moment before we both burst out laughing. Mikeal grins at us.

"Nice to see you two getting along," he chuckles, before nodding out the window. "We're almost to the Capitol."

Suddenly the windows go dark as the train passes through the mountains. It seems like forever before we pull out of the mountain and back into daylight, and I find myself looking at the bright, colorful, candy-like skyline of the Capitol, its citizens waving as the train zips by. In no time we pull into the station, and Crimson bursts into the dining car.

"What are you still sitting around for? We're here!"

Griffin and I just look at each other, and he rolls his eyes.

"Coming, Crimson," I say tiredly, following her off the train, into the Remake Center.

XXXXXXXXX

I close my eyes, trying to block out the chatter of my prep team. They sound like an annoying flock of birds, twittering away around me, or the hum of flies around a carcass. I attempt to shake my head to erase this thought- it hits a little too close to home- but my team titters at me. They bathe me and scrub me and file down my nails, and shampoo and condition my hair until my scalp hurts.

"What's this?" one of them asks, frowning at my wrist. It takes me a second to process what she's talking about.

A thick pink scar cuts across my wrist on my left arm, from the base of my thumb and across to about halfway to my elbow. The mark of my own stupidity. I tell her so, and they all frown, asking for the story.

I know I can't tell them the whole story, so I lie. I tell them I cut myself working in the orchard, when I fell out of the tree. In truth, it started when I fell out of a tree one day, but that's not how I got the scar.

XXXXXXXXX

I had run from our dwelling, holding in sobs. Rowena was dead. She had died as I watched from our table.

I just kept running, ignoring the voices calling after me. I found myself in the orchard and climbed a tree, clinging to it like a lifeline. I was beyond caring about laws now- but the Peacekeepers weren't. They were there minutes after I'd climbed the tree, ordering me down. I should be inside, watching the Games, which were mandatory programming.

I refused to come down. I remember one of the Peacekeepers, possibly the captain of their team, shaking his head, and pulling out his whip. The tip struck right in front of my face, and I flinched back, letting go of my hold on the tree.

I fell to the ground with a crash, and lay there, gasping for air, the Peacekeepers standing over me. The one holding the whip was standing over my head.

"I recognize her," he said. "Her sister's in the Games."

I felt something in me snap, and I stood, shaking, and drew my knife.

"Leave me alone!" I snarled, and the Peacekeepers took a step back, except the one holding the whip. He pulled his arm back and I instinctually brought my arms up to protect my face as the whip came down on me. It caught on my wrist, and I yelped, falling to my knees. My knife skittered across the ground.

Just then Will and Carter burst through the trees. Will took one look at the situation and stepped forward.

"Sorry about this," she said to the Peacekeepers. I felt her hand on my back and look up at her.

"We'll let it slide, considering the circumstances," the captain says. He bent to pick up my knife and handed it to Will. "Make sure it doesn't happen again." I felt Will nod next to me, then the sound of boots walking away through the orchard.

"You kids better get back inside," I heard him call over his shoulder, before the three of us were left there alone.

After than, Will and Carter took me home, and stayed there until they were sure it was safe to leave me unsupervised. Since then, I've kept my temper under a tight reign, and the scar remains a reminder of what happened.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Finally I get to meet my stylist, a skinny woman named Maud. She looks about 30 or so, and I can't help my reaction to her appearance. Her hair, a brilliant shade of magenta, is held up in a messy bundle by a sparkling silver jeweled clip, and her lips are coated in a lipstick the same shade.

I try to ignore her as she adjusts my hair and makeup, then slips my costume over my head. But when she stands me in front of a full length mirror, my mouth drops open.

The costume- if you can even call it that, because it's more of a gown- falls to just past my knees, and is a dark evergreen. On closer inspection, I realize the dress looks like a leave, wrapped around my body. It's strapless, but a vine of satin extends from my back to my wrist on my left hand, a sheet of sheer green material falling from it, and another vine wraps up my right forearm. My hair is woven with purple flowers that seem to shimmer, and the same flowers are sprinkled along the vines.

The costume is beautiful, just as the costumes usually are, although I recognize it faintly as being of the same basic design as another a few years ago. Despite this, it's gorgeous.

Maud leads me to the stables below the Remake Center, and I meet Griffin at our carriage. The other tributes mill around, generally avoiding each other.

Mikeal appears at my elbow and gives both of us a small grin. "Good luck," he tells us, helping me up into the carriage. Griffin climbs in on the other side, and Mikeal climbs up next to us.

"Ok, you two, just relax and act like you're enjoying yourselves. Wave, smile, the whole deal. Got it?" Mikeal gives us a stern look that doesn't seem right on his face.

I nod, as does Griffin, as the anthem begins to play and the huge doors at the front of the line, by the District 1 carriage and its white horses, start to open.

Mikeal jumps off the carriage as the line starts to move, and the roar of the crowd outside almost drowns out the anthem, but not quite.

Then our carriage rolls forward and we're outside, among the cheering Capitol citizens. I plaster a smile on my face and grip the edge of the carriage with one hand, and wave with the other. My stomach burns at the joy I see on these people's faces, but I push it down. Now is not the time for such thoughts.

Finally our carriage follows the others into the loop at the City Circle, stopping outside the President's mansion. President Snow himself, steps out onto the balcony above us. I think idly how young he looks, how he could possibly be President at his age. He starts his annual speech, one similar to the one the mayor gives every year back home. I stand there, a small smile on my face, the one I saved for Rowena so she wouldn't worry about me, and try to look like I'm paying attention.

The President wraps up his speech and we start rolling again, towards the Training Center.

Dinner that night is a small affair. The food is fantastic- some sort of white meat in a strong gravy with greens, garlic potatoes, and chocolate cake, something I've never had before. It's amazing.

But nobody says much, except Crimson, who keeps going on about how everyone loved us, although I think that's stretching the truth a bit. Our début as tributes was nothing special.

After dinner we all head into the sitting room to watch a recap of the ceremonies. The tributes from the Career districts- 1, 2, and 4- look stunning, as usual. When they show District 11, Crimson goes off about how gorgeous we both look. Griffin nudges my side and makes a face, and I have to hold in a laugh.

Finally, Mikeal and Crimson decide to head to bed, and Crimson suggests Griffin and I do the same.

"I'll head to bed soon," I tell her, but quite frankly, I'm terrified about being alone, knowing I'll completely break down, be swallowed by the terror of my fate.

Griffin nods. "I was thinking the same thing." Crimson and Mikeal nod and leave, and Griffin stretches out on the couch.

"So, not ready for bed yet?"

I shake my head. "Not really. I think my mind needs to slow down first."

He nods, then leans back and stares at the ceiling.

We sit there in silence for a while, before Griffin suddenly speaks.

"So, what was it like back home?"

I glance over at him, but he's still staring up at the ceiling.

"Ok, I guess. Life's hard in the minor districts, but my family gets by," I say carefully, just in case.

He shakes his head. "Come on, Dess. You know that's not what I mean. What's _your _life like? What about your parents, siblings? You know."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why do you care?"

Finally he sits up, an irritated look on his face. "Because I'm trying to be friendly. You seemed like you were ok with it on the train. I realize we're supposed to be going into the Games soon, but I was just trying to be a decent person!"

"Sorry," I mutter, and he goes back to staring at the ceiling.

After a while, it's me that breaks the silence.

"I don't have any parents," I say quietly, pulling my knees to my chest and hugging them to my body.

Griffin sits up. "What?"

Without looking at him, I repeat myself. "I don't have any parents. At least, not anymore. They're dead."

I can feel Griffin's eyes on my face. "I'm sorry," he says eventually.

Suddenly I can't stop the words that come, and I know if I try to stop them I'll cry. So I let them come.

"They died during the Outbreak, five years ago. My brother and sister and I went to live with our grandmother, because she was alone. Grandfather had died of pneumonia shortly before the Outbreak. I don't think I would have survived then if it weren't for Will and Carter. They're probably the only reason I'm still sane after…" I was going to say, "After Rowena's death," but the words have finally stopped coming.

"After you lost your parents?" Griffin fills in instead. I just nod, because for some reason, I don't want to share about Rowena with him. We may be on friendly terms, and I may have just suffered from a bad case of emotional word vomit, but I'm not stupid. I know once we go into the arena, anything I say, (or have just said,) can be used against me.

There's a shift in the couch, and I look up to find Griffin sitting next to me.

"I lost my mother a few years back too," he tells me.

I sigh. "Seems everyone's lost someone they love." Griffin nods and sighs.

"So," he starts, "Do you have a boyfriend back home?"

I just stare at him.

"What?" he asks indignantly. "It's just a question."

"Not…not really."

It's his turn to give me a look, but I ignore it. "You?" He just shakes his head.

"No girlfriend for me," he grins. "Never even kissed one."

"You didn't have to share that," I tell him. He laughs, earning a small smile from me.

Suddenly he turns serious. "I wish…"

"What?" I realize he's even closer now, almost right in my face.

"I wish we weren't going into the Games," he says, "because then I wouldn't feel guilty about this."

He closes the remaining distance between us, and our lips meet.

**Yeah, I know, you're like "What the heck?" but just bear with me and go with it, ok? It'll all make sense. :) And please, don't forget to review. :)**


End file.
